The Search
by weldolet
Summary: Doyle returns from a badly needed holiday to discover that Bodie is missing
1. Prologue Listening

The Search

Prologue - Listening

"Look Ray, don't go bleeding sanctimonious on me here. There is no way you are going to convince me that these fanatics have a point."

"I'm not saying that am I? I just think that we could have talked them down before we went in there guns blazing!"

"Yeah? Well tell that to Owen's Misses then. They didn't give him a chance before they cut him to ribbons. Tell that to his kids. Or to all the other kids on the streets that are hooked up on the poison they were selling to them just to fund their own little war. Tell that to..."

"Alright alright!! You made your point Bodie. Its obvious you weren't prepared to listen and Cowley sure as hell wasn't. And if we don't listen, how does that make us any better than them? Tell me that eh?"

"Don't compare me to those animals!" Bodie was shouting now, his face up close to his partner's, veins throbbing in his neck as the raw nerve was skilfully exposed by Doyle. He stopped and regarded him for a moment, realising suddenly what Doyle had done to him.

"You better go." He finished quietly. "You have packing to do." And at that he swiftly turned and left the VIP lounge in CI5 headquarters.

Ray Doyle knew that he had done it this time.


	2. AWOL

Part 1 - AWOL

Ray Doyle heaved a sigh as he stepped off the plane into Terminal 1. It had been two weeks of bliss. No guns, no radios, no demands on his time. A well earned rest on a Caribbean Island, with little communications, heaps of sunshine, and the most gorgeous (not to mention accommodating) women he had ever seen in his life.

"_They are paying you too much!"_

Bodie's words still rang in his ears as he swept through passport control and immigration. Daft berk. That's what savings were for. Anyway, he had needed this time off. He had been getting scarily close to burnout, and had found himself snapping at all his colleagues. Even Bodie.

Alright especially Bodie. He had been spoiling for a fight and had taken pleasure in goading his partner, trying to get him angry, just so he could shout back. But mostly Bodie had just sniggered at him, taking it on the chin, or said nothing when the words had really stung. Except for that last time when Bodie had bitten and he realised that he had gone too far. Yeah, Bodie might be denigrated by most of the CI5 crowd, but deep down Doyle knew who the insufferable one was out of the two of them. Bodie had probably needed the break from him as much as he had needed the time away.

He recalled their last conversation when he had called him just before the taxi had turned up for the airport.

"About what I said.."

"Forget it!"

Just like that! It was said a little too abruptly, but then maybe it needed to be forgotten.

"See you in a fortnight – yeah?"

"They are paying you too much!"

And he had laughed knowing then that he could look forward to his break and forget about CI5 for a while. Forget about everything and be normal. Just for a bit.

"Doyle!"

He stopped himself from hanging up.

"Yeah?"

There was a moment's hesitation.

"Have a good time. You earned it."

Bodie hung up before he could reply, and he remembered staring at the phone for a second or two wondering if he should call back. Then the taxi's horn sounded and he grabbed his case and left.

But now the holiday was over and reality was about to hit him at full speed. No time to go home to unpack and shower. Delayed flights meant that he was late for checking in with HQ. Although he had managed to make a call to inform them, he knew that to prolong the delay would be to incur the wrath of George Cowley. And Doyle was feeling too relaxed to consider doing that now.

He half expected there to be someone waiting for him. Someone slightly taller than him, bit heavier with ironed on clothes and hair to match, wearing a permanent smirk on his features. Someone was there alright, but not who he expected. And that was when he first felt the ache in the pit of his stomach, that instinct that told him that something was wrong.

"Murph!" he called to the tall figure that was standing facing the opposite direction.

Murphy turned suddenly and acknowledged him with a look that turned the feeling in his stomach from an ache to a throb.

"What is it?" he demanded, dropping his bag on the ground. Murphy would not come and pick him up on his own behest. He was under orders.

"Cowley wants you to report pronto. Sent me to pick you up."

"What's going on?" he wondered who Murphy was looking for as he kept looking around him.

"Look, I'm just going to come right out and ask you." The tall good looking agent finally looked him in the eye.

"Ask me what. For pete's sake I just got here and I am jet lagged. What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Where's Bodie?"

The pain in his gut was now excruciating but he ignored it.

"What do you mean where's Bodie? How the hell should I know?"

"Bodie's AWOL. Cowley is doing his nut!"

Doyle closed his eyes for a second as he absorbed this news. Memories of his holiday were swept aside by the feeling of panic that washed over him and he struggled to take control of it.

"Since when?"

Murphy just looked at him as if he was trying to decide what to tell him.

"Murphy – out with it. What do you know?" he was almost yelling and he forced himself to stop as passers -by gave them strange looks.

"No-one has seen him since you left two weeks ago." Came the quiet response.

"Right. Let's go" he said as calmly as he could and he grabbed his case and charged out of the terminal and into the London sunshine, Murphy hot on his heels. And with every step, his stomach gnawed at him with greater intensity.

God Bodie! Where are you?


	3. Why Wasn't I Told?

Part 2 – Why wasn't I told?

George Cowley was doing what he was best at: barking out orders and directing operations. They were in the middle of a protection run. Fairly routine by CI5 standards, but made all the more difficult by the scarcity of personnel at his disposal. One on sick leave, one on leave and one absent without leave.

Bodie! He wished to God he could silence the voice that kept shouting out the man's name to him during every waking moment. At first he had been angry. Like Doyle he had been granted leave but in his case it had been two days, not two weeks. Then when he did not report for duty, protocol required that an agent track him down but no sign of the man had been found. Not at his home, his gym, his usual haunts. The neighbours had not seen him. There was no message. His car had been parked outside as normal and looked untouched.

They had checked the hospitals. Airline passenger lists were double checked. They had placed a bulletin with Scotland Yard and Interpol.

Nothing.

Now George Cowley was a very worried man. The way he saw it one of two things had happened. Bodie had disappeared of his own volition, or he hadn't. Cowley did not know which of those two options he preferred. The one that proved that he had been wrong about Bodie all along? Or the one where Bodie was being interrogated for information relating to National Security?

All the evidence (or lack of it) pointed towards the former and Bodie leaving his CI5 life behind and skilfully disappearing. His head told him that very soon he would have to be declared as absent without leave and a warrant for his arrest posted. His instincts however told a different story. And one thing George Cowley did well, was listen to his gut. He would delay as long as possible until all avenues had been exhausted and they were left with no choice.

And he knew just the man to explore those avenues. He would be making his way over from Heathrow with Murphy now. No stone would be left unturned until he had found his partner.

In the meantime, he reviewed the duty roster and reallocated three agents to cover the Ambassador's protection assignment. It would leave them light on the Hudson observation meaning that instead of three shifts there would be two. But there was nothing else for it. Defence of the country did not stop because one agent went missing, and they had work to do.

-o0o-

Murphy's long legs could barely keep up with Doyles as he raced down the corridor to Cowley's office and barged in without knocking. He tried to hold him back but Doyle was having none of it.

Cowley scowled at the interruption as he and his secretary pored over a duty roster, then quickly his features relaxed as he recognised Doyle and then dismissed Betty with a nod.

Ray was clearly agitated and could not stand still while Murphy stood at the door, a picture of calm as ever. The journey over from the airport had been fraught as Doyle's mood had swung between incredulity, anger, disbelief and worry. At times he pumped him with questions. What had the search at Bodie's flat revealed? Where was the car? Where was his passport? Signs of struggle? Then he fumed in silence. Then he would lapse into repeated curses and swearing. Over and over again the same two words would repeat themselves.

_Two weeks._

He hadn't tried to contact anyone?

_Two weeks._

Had anyone tried his own message service?

_Two weeks._

Why did no-one contact him in Barbados? He would have come back.

Cowley regarded him coolly for a moment as he paced up and down. In spite of his agitated state, Cowley had to admit to himself that the man looked the better for his vacation. And he was glad that he had decided not to recall 4:5 from his holiday, knowing that he would have run the risk of spiralling the man down into a nervous breakdown. Dr Ross had indicated as such. His behaviour prior to his leave all pointed towards a burnt out state and it had been quite clear that3:7 had borne the brunt of it all. Could it even be possible that his recent difficulties with his partner had played a part in his disappearance? So he decided that 6:2 would search for Bodie in the meantime while Doyle got some much needed down time. Besides he had been banking that Bodie would have turned up long before then.

He hoped that Doyle would understand the logic, but prepared himself to deal with the inevitable outburst that was coming. He did not have to wait long.

"I want to know why I wasn't told about this before now!"


	4. Its Foul Play It Must Be

Part 03 – Its Foul Play – It Must Be

Cowley rose to the bait for no reason other than he must. To do otherwise and let the man wax lyrical was not his style of leadership. Understandable as Ray Doyles anguish and confusion was, there was no requirement for him to explain his actions to him. There were no ranking officers in CI5 – except for George Cowley. And he had an answer for everything.

"Because I knew you would react this way and be no use to me at all" he barked in response to Doyles outburst, rising as he did so and placing both hands on his desk , leaning over to emphasise the point.

Doyle glared at him in disgust, not wanting to recognise the authority in Cowley's voice and manner. Although deep down the rational voice in his head whispered that the old man had a point. But that did not take away his right to know about what had happened to Bodie.

"I should have been told two weeks ago!" he hissed.

"And what would you have done eh? You'd have jumped on the first plane back, still burnt out, and got yourself a one way ticket to a nervous breakdown and we'd be worse off than we are now!"

"A nervous breakdown? Who told you that? Ross?"

"She didn't need to tell anyone – it was plain for all to see that you were stretched so taut that you were about to snap! Why do you think that I granted you two weeks leave on the eve of a protection duty? You needed the time. The Owen's Case was a tough one Doyle, for both you and Bodie. Even by our standards!" he added the last bit almost as an afterthought.

Doyle rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration, trying to ignore the grit behind his eyes telling him that he needed to sleep.

"Sit down man before you fall down" Cowley's voice was still harsh even as he walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of Pure Malt Scotch and passed one over to the younger man. Murphy, standing forgotten at the door shrugged his shoulders and left in his usual quiet way.

Doyle accepted the proffered drink, thinking as he did so that he only every received a malt from Cowley when Bodie was in deep trouble. Must be bad he thought as he sipped down the harsh liquid, savouring the burn as it slipped down his throat and the anticipation of the warmth in his belly that was to follow.

Only then did he sit down, staring at the drink, while George Cowley waited quietly for him to speak.

"Two weeks. He's been gone for two weeks. No leads? Nothing?"

"Not a thing. When it became clear that there was no evidence of his being abducted we began following the line that he left of his own accord."

"Now hang on a min-"

"We had no choice man! Come on you were a copper once Doyle, you know the routine. There was no evidence of break in, no witnesses, no messages, no sign of attack, you must know that we have to assume that he disappeared because he wanted to!"

"Damn right I know the routine, but I also know Bodie. If he was planning to disappear I would know wouldn't I?"

Cowley raised his eyebrows.

"Would you?"

Doyle raised his own in likewise fashion.

"Tell me Doyle, how would you have described your relationship with Bodie of late?"

"What do you mean describe our relationship? Just the same as it ever- " Light dawned on Ray Doyle and he felt the anger at his boss spiking again. "Now just a second! Are you suggesting that Bodie disappearing was because of some fight we had. Well I tell you – you're barking up the wrong tree there. We had an argument, we do that every day. It's who we are. No way did Bodie leave because of that."

Doyle tried to stop the break in his voice as he said those words. The giveaway falsetto in his voice that made his firm declaration sound like a desperate plea. But he couldn't and he found himself doubting the strength of their relationship, which up until now had withstood many trials. Surely to God Bodie had not taken it personally. Had he?

"Consider the timing Doyle. You and Bodie worked on an extremely harrowing case, and you had your differences of opinion on this one. We all know how it affected you, but what about Bodie? How did he cope with what happened?"

"Bodie coped the way he always does. He worked hard and he played hard."

"I see. So in your opinion it's fowl play?"

Doyle looked back over at the CI5 controller who was regarding him with steely blue eyes. Never in all his days would he have believed that this would be his preferred option.

"It must be"

"If that's the case, whoever took him is a professional."

Doyle nodded in response and tried to think about what to do next, but his head would not clear of images of Bodie. Laughing at him, smirking at some joke, holding him up while they faced death together, lying face down in the ground.

"Go home laddie. Get some sleep and report here by 06:00"

He shook his head.

"How can I sleep knowing he is out there somewhere? No give me what you've got so far and I will look it over, grab a shower here or something."

Before he had even finished the sentence Ray Doyle found himself staring at a voluminous folder packed full of information, leads, lines of enquiry, all pertaining to a certain William Bodie, call sign 3:7.

It seemed that Cowley had anticipated him once again.


	5. A Strange Sort of Normal

Part 4 – A Strange Sort of Normal

"4:5 all clear – GO!"

The hand held RT crackled with the sound of Murphy's voice and he sprang into action. It took forty seconds to make the distance in the Capri, and it careened to a halt in front of the building with a screech of tyres. Just in time for the fugitive to bolt through the door in a desperate move to escape.

Doyle was out of his car in an instant, handgun already out as he shielded himself behind the door.

"Hold it there sunshine!" he yelled out "or I'll shoot you where you stand!"

Panic stricken the man took off along the pavement, his legs moving in a blur. Doyle stood up and leaned on the doorframe shaking his head.

"Why do they always run?" he muttered to himself as he picked up the RT from the car seat.

"6:2, he's headed your way"

"Roger that!" came the reply, followed swiftly by "got him!"

It was a textbook capture. Procedure had been followed, not a shot had been fired, no-one had been injured and their quarry was now apprehended. But Ray Doyle felt little satisfaction. This hadn't been his case for one thing, he had been called in to assist in the capture of a renegade Eastern Bloc agent who had been selling arms in London. Murphy and Anderson had done most of the leg work on this one and deserved the praise which would no doubt be coming their way from Cowley.

Ray Doyle had his own case to work on. And he knew that his results thus far had been far from satisfactory.

"Thanks for the assist Ray" called Murphy and he waved in response as he drove away from them, heading back to CI5 headquarters. He had to finish his latest report on his missing partner. It was an important document. If he got this wrong, Cowley would pull the plug on the investigation and reassign him. He had to show something for his efforts, something to make the old man believe that to continue was worthwhile.

He shook his head as he drove through the busy Central London streets. Cowley had given him some leeway lately, but it was becoming clear that the Controller's patience was running thin, and it was up to him to convince him to let him carry on until all possible leads were exhausted. A futile effort probably, but he had to try. He couldn't give up on Bodie, not yet.

Even if he had been gone for over two months.

Ray Doyle was beginning to wonder if he would ever see his partner again.

Two months ago he had been so certain that he would find him within a day. He would spot something that had been missed, that vital clue that only he, who knew Bodie so well, could identify as crucial. But the first day had passed and he had found nothing. That night he had gone to Bodie's flat hoping against a vain hope that he would be there all along, grinning, sipping scotch and yelling "gotcha!" But the flat remained eerily silent, scrupulously clean and tidy as always, and no sign that Bodie had left not intending to return. It was as if he had popped out for a newspaper.

He had taken to sleeping there, in case he should return, or some indication of his whereabouts turned up. Not every night, just occasionally, enough to remind him that he was still out there and his life was still waiting for him.

It was during one of those nights that the phone rang.

"Hello?"

Silence

"Who is this?" his heart was pounding as he dared to hope.

Silence

"Bodie? Is that you?"

A click and then a dialling tone as it was cut off. Too short a call to trace but he knew with every fibre of his being that it was him. That night he hadn't slept at all as he waited for the phone to ring again. But it never did.

Cowley had not agreed with him of course. Why should he? He had not been there. But it had given him something to work with. Control had not been able to track down the number but they had narrowed the location down. The call had come from inside the Greater London area somewhere south of the Thames. To Doyle that meant that Bodie was still alive, and that he wanted to be found or else he would not have called.

But Cowley was beginning to think that Bodie was gone for good, and no evidence had turned up to make him think otherwise. He had started assigning Doyle to other duties, to other partners, and life was steadily returning to normal.

He slept most nights at Bodie's now, waiting. It was a strange sort of normal.

-o0o-

_His hands knew which numbers to dial even if his head didn't. They moved of their own accord and he watched in fascination as the dial spun clockwise slowly and rapidly anti-clockwise as he released. He heard it ring only once._

"_Hello?"_

_He knew that voice. Where? Struggling to remember he tried to place the voice with a face. _

"_Who is this?"_

_Something deep within his mind told him he could trust this voice._

"_Bodie? Is that you?"_

_Who is Bodie? Is it me? He heard the click before he saw the hand on the phone and looked up into cold grey eyes._

_He had done something wrong....._


	6. Who's Voice?

Part 5 – Who's Voice?

"So tell me Doyle why I shouldn't call off the search for 3:7"

Doyle had been anticipating the question but it still came as a blow. What could he tell Cowley? That he just knew that Bodie was alive and in trouble? That he could not give up on him? That it was all based on a feeling, because that was all he had to go on?

He had his speech all ready, and he sat up ready to deliver it.

"As it says in my report – "

"I've read your report Doyle. You have managed to make a great deal out of no evidence whatsoever. Don't take me for a fool, you should know better than that. You have found nothing that even comes close to a theory as to why Bodie has disappeared. You have looked through your past case files and any leads have come to nothing. All you have to go on is a crank call to Bodie's home made some weeks ago. A home which will now have to be reassigned to another agent, unless you give me good reason to keep it for him."

He looked over his glasses at the younger man and waited for a reply. Doyle for his part stared back at him clearly mulling over his response. The Controller could almost sense the wheels turning in the quick brain, as he dismissed one possible argument after another. Cowley sensed that in all likelihood, Bodie's future depended greatly on whatever Ray Doyle said to him right now.

Eventually the internal argument was settled and his features took on a look of determination.

"I know Bodie. He lived and breathed this place more than anyone. It doesn't make sense. It just doesn't make sense. I can't believe that he left without a trace."

"Look I don't claim to understand it either. Don't you think I haven't sat up and wondered how a man such as Bodie could just go absent without leave? But it happens. Maybe we just have to accept it and move on. Oh we would never truly stop searching. But unless evidence to the contrary turns up we are going to have to declare him as a missing person and move on." Cowley could not help but feel the disappointment well up within him as he realised that even Ray Doyle could not come up with the answers. He would just have to accept that Bodie had disappeared of his own volition, however hard that may be to swallow.

It was a bitter pill. But no more so than for the young man standing before him who stood shaking his head at him.

"Face it Doyle" he continued. "He made a decision and left!"

"No!" Doyle shouted. "Never! He would never leave like that unless – " he looked up at Cowley suddenly.

"What?"

"IDIOT!!" Doyle jumped up and started pacing back and forth. "I should have seen it before now. Damnit!"

"What are you onto man?"

"We were looking at all the past cases where Bodie had been threatened right?" Doyle passed his hands through his hair clearly agitated as he continued his pacing.

"Yes, standard procedure." Cowley nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "And as we all know any leads led to dead ends."

"Bodie doesn't scare easily. He would have left some kind of trail for us to follow, even if it meant risking his life. One thing is for sure he would not have left quietly!"

"Agreed, which is why – "

Doyle cut him off.

"But what if it's not him that was threatened? What if it was someone else?"

Cowley saw where he was going with this now.

"So you are suggesting that Bodie left because he was protecting someone, someone he cares about."

"That's exactly what I am suggesting. I need to look over those cases again." He stopped his pacing and looked eagerly over at his commanding officer.

"And he perceived that the threat was real." Cowley continued softly looking meaningfully at Doyle. "Right! You have convinced me. Go and look at the case files again and come back to me with some leads."

Doyle was half way out of the door before he had finished speaking.

"Doyle!" he regarded the animated features of the man as he reappeared. "If you are right about this, then you know that you are the most likely person that he was trying to protect."

"I know. But I am going to get him back if it's the last thing I do!" he declared firmly and then left for Records. He knew just where he wanted to start. The Owen's case had been filed but there had been a loose end, one that had been the cause of the friction between the two of them, one that had threatened to separate them forever.

His heart felt a flutter of hope that maybe he was making progress at last, even while his conscience pricked at him that he had not realised this sooner. He sent an apology out to his absent friend as he started to peruse the record of the events that had led to the tragic death of Harry Owen. And as he did so, his mind drifted back to the last time he had spoken with Bodie.

"_They are paying you too much.......have a good time....you earned it....."_

And suddenly it struck him that all those weeks ago when he had tried to apologise for being a prized prat, Bodie had not been alone.

-o0o-

_His is a world of whispers too quiet to hear when he is awake yet roaring to a crescendo while he sleeps._

_Is he awake?_

_He cannot tell as there is no light. He cannot move. He cannot hear – except for the whispers. What are they saying? He strains to hear the words. He can sense that his face is scrunched in concentration; he tries to reach up to feel the lines in his forehead, but his hands do not move. He craves silence. But the voices are relentless and they do not stop. They penetrate everything so that he cannot remember._

_Remember what? What should he remember? He concentrates harder, his mind desperately searching. A name; a face; a voice. Something that will allow him to believe that he is living and breathing and that the world is real, not a figment of his imagination. An image flickers in his consciousness and his mind reaches for it. A broken smile flashing beneath a mass of curly hair. Glimpses of a person that can hold him to ground if he can just get to him. He stretches towards the image but it fades and in its place he senses thick rimmed spectacles, a glass of amber liquid, a lingering spice of alcohol. The feeling of trust remains and he grabs for it but feels only thin air. Too quickly the images blend into the darkness and are gone and his mind searches in vain._

_He has forgotten. He feels forgotten. He succumbs once again to the voices. He strains to hear what they are saying. He thinks he can make out the words at last._

"_Hear my voice. Only my voice. Only I can tell you. Hear my voice. Only my voice."_

_Yes only this voice._

_Is he asleep?_

"_Hear my voice"_

_Maybe he should answer._

"_I hear you" he says. "Only you."_

_The voices stop at last and he is left in silence. He embraces it with relief._


End file.
